


Blue Blush

by ZuzuSara



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blushing, Destiel Reference?, F/M, Female Frisk, First Kiss, Flirting, Flirty Frisk, Flirty Sans, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Mild Sexual Fantasy, Post-Pacifist Run, Sexual Tension, Studio Ghibli References, Teen Frisk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZuzuSara/pseuds/ZuzuSara
Summary: Frisk wonders why Sans' face turns blue occasionally. Is it incidental or purposeful? Can it happen for more than one reason? Is it something only Monsters can do? When Sans is reluctant and bad at explaining his blushing to her, and after deeply pondering and using the process of elimination for the causes of the mystery, Frisk conducts an experiment.Thanks so much for 2k hits and over 100 kudos!





	1. Sweater with Pockets

**Author's Note:**

> Have y'all ever had a ship that when you think back, never actually canonically had any evidence of being a ship? Haha, 'cause that's what Frans is to me. Where did it come from??? Whose idea was it??? A skeleton and a human? Really??? Nevertheless, I find it too cute to ignore (as long as Frisk is aged up duh).  
> Anyway, this is my first fanfic! Sorry about all the backstory in this chapter lol.  
> Tips and suggestions are always welcome (or just comments in general)! I don't know about you guys, but I personally wish there were more short Frans fics, and that's partly why I'm writing this haha. Hope y'all enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some background information on where/when this story takes place, Frisk longs for warmth in the snowstorm she walks in on her way to pick up Sans for dinner, then is granted her wish as they both walk to Grillby's.

It was a usual day in the life of Frisk, but it wasn’t the usual weather in Snowdin Town. Instead of a few inches of the fluffy snow, there was almost a good foot of it due to the blizzard that had been raging on since that afternoon, which also wasn’t the usual. _Usually,_ the sky (or what could be considered a sky in the Underground) was clear and the air still, sometimes with a few light flurries falling. But today, a biting wind was blowing a much larger amount of snowflakes into Frisk’s chilled body, preventing her from even being able to look at the sky for more than a couple seconds without her vision turning blurry with tears.

Frisk adjusted her balled up fists in her sweater’s sleeves again, hugging herself tighter against the cold. She would have dressed more appropriately for the unexpected snowstorm, but it was, well, unexpected! And it’s not like the Underground had a weather prediction machine or something. Even after the Barrier had been broken more than seven years ago, and Monsters had been able to set out and discover even more possibilities in the world, they still hadn’t thought to start some sort of weather forecast like the Humans had at some point. Well, Mettaton occasionally had a program like that, but it didn’t exactly have a regular schedule, wasn’t entirely serious, or the show would often get sidetracked. It was fine though; Mettaton’s shows were primarily meant to entertain, not inform- the unexpectedness and craziness was what gave his programs their spark and originality. Plus, since the Barrier had been broken, Mettaton was keen on introducing himself to the surface and their inhabitants. Thankfully though, he hadn’t _completely_ forgotten that some people still occupied the Underground, permanently or not. Yes, since the Barrier was torn down, Monsters not only came out, but Humans came _in_ as well. Frisk didn’t know of any Humans that had actually chosen to permanently move to the Underground, but many came down here to curiously explore or simply take a vacation. And of course they were interested to know what Monster television was like (and Monsters still adored Mettaton), so, although MTT only played old programs of Mettaton’s most of the time, Mettaton still made sure to send us a new one at least once a month.

Of course, Humans didn’t come to the Underground right away; they were shocked and a bit scared when Monsters suddenly returned to the surface, but eventually, word quickly spread that the Monsters meant no harm and were much more friendly than past Humans made them out to be. So, when Humans discovered that, quite a few decided to venture or visit the Underground, resulting in many employment options, especially for inns, motels and hotels. Since Frisk wasn’t as eager as most to return to the surface (surprisingly to all her Monster friends), she decided she might as well get a job, being that they were practically raining from the sky (or well, places that were hiring). So, she became one of the maids at Snowed Inn.

Before tourist Humans came into the Underground, Snowed Inn likely only had a couple “cleaners” for the whole place. But now, the building had been renovated to fit triple the amount of rooms it originally had, with one “maid” every other room. She even had a cute little black and white uniform!

That was why she was even outside in this goddamn snowstorm. When she left in the morning for work, the weather was the same as always- perhaps a bit windier than usual, but tolerable in her blue and purple sweater. But now, well, you know what the weather’s like now. And Frisk did _not_ like it.

Frisk breathed into her numb hands, desperately trying to warm them. _If only this sweater had pockets…_ She thought glumly. _Sans’ hoodie has pockets. Oh, how I’d love to put my hands in them… So warm…_ Just thinking about the heat she’d be greeted with by Sans’ hoodie made her temporarily forget about how cold she was. But then she wondered how she would even end up in a situation like that. Would she somehow end up _wearing_ his hoodie? Would he _give_ it to her? Or would she casually stuff her hands into the pockets while he was just doing his thing? But then wouldn’t she be touching _his_ hands as well? That thought alone was enough to make her feel like blushing, if she even could in this weather. Her cheeks were already red enough from the cold. _He_ does _always have his hands in his pockets, doesn’t he? Well no wonder; it must be cozy…_

 _Gosh, am I there yet?_ Frisk mentally complained. She then looked up from her feet to see that she wasn’t too far now from Sans’ and Papyrus’ house. Well, technically her house too. Everyone was surprised that after her entire journey and the Barrier breaking, Frisk didn’t actually want to live on the surface. She wasn’t entirely sure why, herself, mostly just a feeling. She _did_ make more friends down here than she ever did up _there,_ but didn’t she want to be with her own people?

The answer was no.

She didn’t trust Humans. With their greed and selfishness and inability to feel compassion and love at times. Monster research proved that; where Monsters must have compassion and love to survive, Humans do not. And it didn’t help her beliefs that Frisk was often faced with Humans’ negativity as a child. She had experienced firsthand just how bad they could be, and she never wanted to experience that again.

She always was an adventurous child; climbing to the top of Mount Ebott when she was just ten years old, but Humans were the ones that pushed her not to care whether she returned or not. She _knew_ that no one was known to have returned alive from that mountain before, didn’t everyone? She was simply adventurous and brave enough to climb that mountain, and not happy enough to care if something bad happened.

And then, she found the Underground. With its sympathetic motherly goat figures, it’s misunderstood flowers, its overly affectionate dogs, its self-conscious ghosts, it’s extremely passionate fish soldiers, its hilarious skeletons (whom she now lived with), and many more beings she’d much rather live with than Humans. And since falling into what she now considered home, she had actually been determined in some way. Determined to do the right thing, determined to try again, determined to see the end, determined to _live_. Living on the surface when she was younger, no one really made her feel determined for anything. No one and nothing made her feel happy. It didn’t seem like making any effort would change anyone or anything, so Frisk stopped trying.

_One particularly bad day, Frisk had to get away from everyone and everything. She wasn’t planning on making it a permanent choice, but when she found the huge black hole in the ground, her childish and lonely self only felt curiosity. No sense of worry or risk, because what did she have to lose?_

_As she dangled from the edge by her fingers, looking down, trying to guess how deep the hole went, her fingers were aching and she thought,_ only one way to find out _. So she let go. She gasped because of the sudden feeling of nothing but wind rushing past her as she looked up at the circle of daylight slowly getting smaller and smaller. She was definitely a bit scared, but not dreadful. Death seemed more of an “_ oh well” _than “_ oh shit” _. Instead of thinking something like,_ “oh god I might die oh no”, _Frisk felt that it was more of an “_ aw man, now I’ll never know what’s down there”.

_Good thing she lived._

_And that’s why I live in Snowdin, with my two skeleton bros instead of that damned surface._ Frisk thought gratefully as she saw that there was only one more building until she reached home. Well, Papyrus spent most of his time on the surface of course, so it was usually just her and Sans. But they always had a good time. Whether they were off doing their own separate things, in each other’s presence but not actively “hanging out”, or actually going places or doing things together, Frisk was comfortable with her life here with him. Of course, being her adventurous self, she still wanted to travel places on the surface. Oceans, beaches, mountains, forests, valleys, even the big cities… she wanted to see them all. And most of her friends lived up there now as well. So it’s not like she _never_ wanted to go to the surface, she just didn’t want to live there. During her three days a week off work, she and Sans always visited their friends, but she remembered that once or twice, knowing his luck, Papyrus went to visit Frisk and Sans in Snowdin at the same time that they were already on the surface visiting everyone. Frisk couldn’t remember which time Papyrus freaked out and panicked and which time he thought it was a prank and waited at their house for two whole days until Frisk and Sans finally got home. She smiled fondly at the funny memories.

 _Finally._ Frisk sighed happily as she arrived home and reached into her pants’ pocket for her keys to the house. She and Sans always went to Grillby’s for dinner every night, but first, she _must_ warm herself up. She didn’t know how much longer she could survive out here like this.

As she found the right key and moved it towards the lock with shivering red fingers, she wondered why _Sans_ still lived in the Underground-

The door opened before Frisk even put the key in the lock, making her and the 5-foot skeleton jump a bit. Despite being seventeen years old, Frisk was only 4’11, one inch away from Sans’ height. Occasionally, he would tease her about it, saying, “I’m not that tall, you should be able to outgrow me” and she threats that one day, she _will_ be taller than him, and then he’ll see who’s being teased. But, she secretly liked their heights as is. She wasn’t sure why, but she silently hoped she didn’t grow taller than him.

“Sans! Gosh, you startled me!” Frisk put her keys back into her pocket. “Where are you going? I thought we were gonna go to Grillby’s.” She could feel the warmth coming out of the door and she looked inside longingly.

“Didja not get my text? You were just running a bit late so I thought I'd meet you there...” Sans stepped outside and pulled the door closed, the sound of the lock clicking cutting Frisk's interjection about her kind of freezing to death off. "...Oh well, it's _chill."_ He grinned and nodded at the blizzard, indicating the context of another one of his many puns, and began the bound-to-be torturous walk with Frisk following beside him.

 _This is fine. I can survive for a couple more minutes. It'll just hurt a bit._ Frisk thought desperately as she tried to make her laugh at Sans' joke sound convincing and wholehearted. Although, it sounded more shaky and prolonged than would sound normal, since he looked over and asked, “You good, kiddo?”

“Yeah, shivering just makes me laugh weird.” She laughed unsteadily again and breathed hot air into her hands again and rubbed them together, repeating this process a couple more times, until she heard Sans’ voice.

“Here.”

Frisk looked over at him to see that he was holding his signature blue hoodie out to her. Frisk’s face lit up, but then she noticed him in his white t-shirt, whipping around his body in the harsh wind. “Won’t you be cold like that though?” She asked.

“Nah, don’t worry about me. You’ve been out here longer than I have.” Sans smiled at Frisk, who laughed and accepted the hoodie gratefully. “That’s very _warm_ -hearted of you, Sans.” She joked, and he laughed at her pun. She managed to get the hoodie on, but her fingers were too shaky and numb to do the zipper up. After watching a few of her unsuccessful tries, Sans put his hand on her arm and said, “Here, wait a sec.” They stopped walking and he stepped in front of her to do the zipper up himself. The only thing she was thankful for from this weather is that he wouldn’t be able to tell if she was blushing right now, which she was sure she would be.

Sans then reached behind her head to pull the hood on. He stepped back and grinned. “Better?”

“Much.” Frisk replied while brushing hair out of her face. “Thank you Sans.” She then saw that Sans’ cheeks went a bit blue, probably from the cold. He started walking again and she followed. “Come on, let’s get to Grillby’s. You hungry?”

“Definitely.” She responded, stuffing her hands into the hoodie’s pockets. Sans’ hoodie. That he _gave_ to her.

Frisk smiled because of the warmth, but also because of Sans.


	2. Why Does Your Face Turn Blue, Sans?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Frisk get dinner at Grillby's, Sans has trouble responding when Frisk keeps asking him why his cheeks turn blue.

Frisk sighed happily and removed her hood as she and Sans entered the warm haven of Grillby’s.

“Guess you didn't get my text, huh? Coulda saved yourself a walk.” Sans said to Frisk as they both stomped snow off their feet in the entryway.

As they started walking towards their regular seats at the bar, Frisk took her phone out of her pocket and yes, displayed on the screen, there was a text from Sans.

 

yo why dont i just meet u at grillbys? ur just running a bit late and itd save u time since its closer to ur work than home

Frisk smiled at his consideration. “Yeah I guess I didn’t hear it. Also sorry for being a bit late, you know how snowstorms are; of _course_ the wind had to be blowing against me.” She shoved her phone back in her pocket before sitting on the barstool.

“Forgetaboutit, kiddo. What are you feeling like food-wise?” Sans sat and crossed his arms on the bar top.

“Something _warm_ , damnit.”

“Heh, everything's warm here, kid.”

“Especially your hoodie. Mm…” Frisk huddled into the blue sweatshirt blissfully, Sans watching her and silently admiring her childish giddiness. Having spent most of the past seven years in the Underground instead of the surface with other Humans, he suspected that the lack of societal standards and expectations down here let Frisk grow up at her own rate. She could be her natural, playful self without the subconscious threat of social judgment looming over her. Or maybe it was just part of her personality. Either way, Sans enjoyed it. And he definitely enjoyed seeing Frisk in his hoodie, with rosy cheeks and nose, brown strands of her windblown hair in her face, melted snowflakes on her eyelashes…

He expected it to be silly and laughter-worthy, seeing Frisk in his signature blue hoodie. But instead, he mostly felt a sense of pride and responsibility from her accepting the offer just a couple minutes ago. And seeing her comfortably snuggling up in it gratefully, it made his heart swell and his cheeks go blue- something that rarely happened.

“Sans? Are you still cold?” Frisk looked at him.

“Huh?” He snapped out of his reverie. “No, why?”

“Well, your cheeks are kinda blue. Here,” Frisk started to remove his hoodie. _No… you looked so cute…_ Sans mentally complained and cursed her for making him blush.

“…I should be okay now. Thanks again.” Frisk handed him his hoodie and smiled shyly. He reluctantly (but didn’t let it show) reached out and took it from her, his hand brushing hers in the process, making both him and Frisk blush blue and red, but neither noticing the other since they were both looking downwards, embarrassed.

Sans returned his hoodie back to its rightful place, trying to hide a smile as he smelled Frisk’s faint leftover scent. “Hey Grillby, I’ll have a burg.”

“Me too, Grillby! Thanks!” Frisk added. The flaming restaurant/bar owner nodded silently and went to the back to retrieve their meals.

Frisk’s nose and fingers were still a bit numb, but the cozy restaurant was slowly but surely warming her up. “I should really sew some pockets into this lousy excuse for a sweater sometime.” Frisk commented while breathing onto her red fingers.

“Heheh. Why don’t you just wear a better sweater?” Sans asked her.

“Yeah I guess that’d be smart. But it would never be as nice as yours.”

Sans looked down at his old stained hoodie with holes here and there and said, “I'd hardly describe it as _that_.”

“You just say that because you wear it all the time. But to me, that thing’s like freaking _heaven._ ” Frisk responded.

“But it’s stained and falling apart- see the thread coming undone here? And whattabout these holes? And I haven’t washed it in forever…” Sans was confused as to how she found it such a great sweater. Sure, it was warm, but he didn't think girls would be fond of old, smelly, worn-out clothes, which this hoodie could be described as. Welp, Frisk wasn’t the usual Human girl.

“But it’s _yours._ ”

Using amusement as his concealment for flattery, Sans smirked and gave her a questioning look, raising the space above his eye socket where there would have been an eyebrow. As he watched the blood slowly creep into Frisk’s face, he felt a small pang of guilt for putting her in a flustered position; he could have simply said something along the lines of: “aw, thanks kiddo” and left her to believe he simply enjoyed her cute, kiddie adoration of him. But that would’ve been misleading. He also felt a bit of satisfaction at seeing her in a position _she_ put _him_ into on a regular basis. _Take that, Frisk. Not a comfortable feeling, being flustered, is it? Especially when they’re looking right at you and you’re trying so hard to keep your cool even though your body gives it away by blushing. Lucky for me, you don’t know I’m blushing when I am, but I know_ you _are heheheh._

“Well, y-yeah! You’re like, reassuring. Your hoodie! That is, I mean.” Sans had to fight to stop himself from laughing out loud at her awkwardness.

“Like, I’m comfortable around you so your sweater’s comfortable and I like it so much because I like you AS A FRIEND I MEAN ‘cause your sweater’s like a part of you ‘cause you’re always wearing it, not that that’s weird or anything it’s nice it’s cool and- oh hey, look! Here’s our food! Thanks Grillby!” Sans wasn’t able to catch every word Frisk had rushed out in her nervous frenzy, but he got the main gist of it. Now that Frisk was likely preoccupying herself with eating, Sans picked up his burger and looked down at it, thinking that this would be a good time to let his laughter out quietly while Frisk wasn’t paying attention. But, instead of laughter, a small smile broke out on his face. He could also feel his cheekbones getting a bit warm again, but he didn’t bother worrying about it since Frisk wasn’t looking-

He was wrong.

“Why does that keep happening?” Frisk was looking at him thoughtfully with a bite of burger in her mouth. Sans was fighting back laughter once again.

He forcefully straightened his face. “Why does what keep happening, kid?” Sans played dumb and busied himself with putting a puddle of ketchup inside his burger.

“Your cheeks. Why do they keep turning blue? You can’t possibly still be cold, can you?” Frisk took another bite of her burger and Sans chuckled as he put his back together. It was funny how his cheeks were doing the exact same thing hers were just a moment ago, but in a different shade. And she had no idea.

“What’s funny?” Frisk questioned.

“Oh, nothing.” Sans made his face neutral again and took a bite of his soft, messy, round sandwich. He casually but quickly changed the subject, trying to make her forget about this one. “So how was work today-?“

“Are you doing it on purpose?

_Goddamn it._

“Wha-?“ Sans sighed inwardly.

“Is it something only Monsters can do? Or-“

“It’s not something you really _choose_ to do.” _What are you doing, Sans?_

“Oh. Oh! Oh. Hmm…” Frisk looked away and put on her thoughtful face. _Seriously, Frisk. Is it really that hard to tell I’m blushing? Monsters aren’t_ that _difficult to understand. Didn’t you hook up those guards RG01 and 02 at some point just by reading 01’s body language? Perhaps it was Sans’_ lack _of body language that_ guarded _him so well. Heheh, was that a pun? Nah, didn’t really work in his context. He_ had _done a good job in keeping his actions under control when he was flustered… so maybe that was it: he hadn’t_ acted _flustered enough to make Frisk realize he was flustered. It took a lot of work though._ Sans sent out a silent prayer to the stars, wishing that things wouldn’t get harder any time soon.

Frisk was still gazing intently ahead of her, and Sans couldn’t help but take this opportunity to admire her profile. Her round nose with a light sprinkle of freckles over the bridge… her thick, dark lashes… her round, baby cheeks she hadn’t completely grown out of yet… her glistening pink lips… there was even a small spot of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. He thought about how easy it would be to just reach out and wipe the bit of ketchup off her face with his finger, then maybe he’d lick it off his finger as she watched open-mouthed, then he’d smirk and say innocently, “What? You know I love ketchup.” And he’d satisfyingly watch as she’d stutter with rosy cheeks-

Frisk then turned to look at him, snapping him out of his fantasy. His reflexes betrayed him; he quickly looked away and, realizing his not-laid-back-ness, blushed again. _God DAMN IT._ Getting distracted for just a moment makes all his composure fall apart. And if that happens too often, the whole _act_ will fall apart.

“There it is again! Why does that keep happening?” Frisk placed her burger on her plate and turned to face him excitedly with a determined expression.

“I dunno! I mean, I guess I do…” Sans’ voice progressively got quieter as he saw what Frisk had started to do.

_Oh no no no no no._

Noticing that her fingers were covered in burger juice, Frisk began to _lick them clean_ , seeing as there were no napkins nearby. “Huh? Dude, I can’t hear you when you mumble.”

 _Good._ He thought.

She then seemed to notice that the palm of her right hand needed a good lick, so she used the flat of her tongue to get the job done. This was giving Sans uncontrollable and unwanted thoughts and if he didn’t do something soon, his speech would become uncontrollable too. But he needed to say something so she wouldn’t notice how mesmerized he was by her tongue and lips and fingers and hands. At least she wasn’t looking at him.

“Well uh… there's a lotta differences between Humans and Monsters, y’know?” _Like shades of blushing?_

She laughed a bit. “Of course!” Then- _oh no, are you kidding me?_ She put _both_ her index finger _and_ middle finger of her right hand into her mouth and started _sucking_ on them. Who does that innocently? _Frisk, apparently._

She then looked up at him through her eyelashes and- _Stars, that look could_ kill. And he had to tear his eyes away from her mouth to meet her gaze, which wasn’t too easy since her mouth was just _centimetres_ from her eyes and _demanding_ attention. “But what does that have to do with your face turning blue?” She asked.

 _When will she be done with licking those two fingers? This is seriously exhausting,_ Sans thought frustratingly. It was getting progressively more difficult to block out or ignore sexual fantasies, like how her fingers could be his, wet with something else of hers, moving in and out of her mouth, feeling her tongue swirling around, then he would tell her to look at him and she’d comply and moan a bit and sigh as her eyelids flutter shut every once in a while, cheeks flushed red and those pink lips he would run his thumb along…

 _Stop it, Sans! She’s still looking at you, and waiting for a response!_ He looked back at her, properly, and said rather unhelpfully: “Well, like, different colours, y’know?”

Now she was even more confused. She giggled and said, “Sans, what are you talking about?” He mentally face-palmed and cursed the stars for ignoring or rejecting his prayer. They were probably laughing at him right now; on the inside, he felt like he was falling apart, but he probably just looked like he was paying a bit too much attention to Frisk’s pretty mouth. But if he wasn’t trying so hard, he was sure he’d fall apart for real.

“Damn you, stars.” He muttered under his breath.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Hey Grillby?” His flaming friend was next to him a bit sooner than usual, as if he knew Sans would need him to come to the rescue in some way at some point.

“Heheh. Could I get a couple shots of whiskey?” He thought he deserved it tonight. Grillby nodded, and before he turned around to the alcohol-stocked shelves behind him, Frisk said, “me… too?” And looked at Sans hopefully.

“Make that three, Grillbz. Also, we could do with some napkins. Thanks.” Grillby nodded and proceeded to get their drinks.

Frisk laughed. “Thanks, Sans.” Then she smiled at him. Though Frisk was playful and a bit childish, she was always excited when she was allowed to partake in “adult things”. This would distract her from pursuing his blushing. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t let her drink a bit before: when Frisk was thirteen or fourteen, she asked Sans if she could try one of his shots. He let her have half of it, good thing since right after swallowing it with a scrunched up face, she complained about how bad it tasted and that it hurt and “ _How do you do that so easily?”_ He told her that after a few tries, it’s not so bad and you get over it.

 _“And besides, you don’t drink it for the taste.”_ He had said and winked at her.

 _“Then why do you do it?”_ She asked.

_“Let me show you.”_

By the end of that night, Sans was under the influence of ten shots worth of that whiskey. He was quite proud of his tolerance, and Frisk was amazed. She watched him down each shot with a look of bewilderment and wonder, and with constant laughter, she watched him being an absolute _wreck_. She had smile wrinkles from all the entertainment Sans gave her, and he remembered seeing them and feeling _absolutely great,_ knowing that he could make her smile that much.

He taught and discussed drinking and being drunk with her for the duration of his first four or five shots, but after that, he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight and gave up trying to properly communicate, instead letting himself be drunk and let her see what exactly that meant.

Ever since that night, he would let her have a drink or two once or (if she was lucky) twice a week. She had never gotten more than tipsy, but he noticed that with two shots, she’d be a little more prone to laughter and clumsiness. She would probably be able to handle three or four drinks at a time, now that he thought of it. What were Humans her age doing up there drinking-wise? He didn’t know. He supposed he could ask her another time if she wanted to try one more than usual. She’s seventeen; it can’t hurt. And he’s a cool guy.

It had been around fifteen minutes since they had finished their dinner and drinks. After some light chatting and bickering during that time, Frisk eventually turned to Sans and said, “Letting me have a shot succeeded in distracting me from our conversation about your face turning blue,” Sans snickered at her trying to sound sophisticated, or maybe that was just him being easily amused at the moment. “…But you were also kind of trash at making any sense-“ Sans laughed again. “…So I’ll just figure out this mystery myself.” She finished.

“Will you really?” He said with an amused tone.

“Yes. I am determined to find out why your face turns blue, Sans the skeleton.” She said with, well, determination, and smirked.

“Suure.” He responded, trying to sound unconvinced. But honestly, he was a bit worried. “Alrighty Frisk, let’s go home.”

Frisk hopped off the barstool and walked towards the exit of the restaurant, humming.

“Put it on my tab, Grillbz. See ya.” Sans turned to follow Frisk, but then he heard a quiet voice say his name. Sans turned back around, and saw Grillby beckoning him closer with a crackling finger. Sans did as encouraged, and heard Grillby say with a knowing smile, “Good luck, Sans.”

“Heheh… Thanks Grillbz.” He might need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated!


	3. The Way Home, and to a Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Sans get playful in the snow on their way home (no, not in a sexy way), and something happens between them that makes way for Frisk's breakthrough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why can't all my chapters be the same length... *sigh*  
> Much fluff <3 Hope y'all like!  
> 

“Here, Frisk. You can uh, wear my hoodie again if you- if ya want.” Sans was holding his blue, white fur-lined hoodie out to her as the two of them stood by the exit of Grillby’s. Unlike the first time he offered, Sans was looking at her now, and she noticed that he did it with a hopeful but slightly nervous expression. There was a light blue tint on that expression as well. _Gosh, I really have to find out what that blue means._ It didn’t sound like the weather was as harsh as before they had dinner, and Frisk felt she wouldn’t need an extra layer for the short walk home now, but… she found that she didn’t really care whether it was necessary or not to accept his offer again; the fact that he _had_ offered made her feel like blushing again just because it was _Sans_ and _his hoodie._ And the look on his face and the hesitation in his voice made her heart melt- she felt an urge to both kiss him and make fun of him for being less laid-back and careless than usual.

_Kiss him... I wish I could.  
_

She pushed the thought away and responded with a smile, “Sure, Sans. Thanks.” As they made to exchange the sweater, she felt his bony hand brush her soft one for the second time that night. But, rather than continuing to look down like the last time, a bit embarrassed, she forced herself to subtly look up at him. His gaze was still focused downwards, which she was thankful for since she must have been at least a little pink in the cheeks, and she was able to see that his were still a bit blue. Perhaps a bit darker than before, but it was so slight a difference that it could have been a shadow or her imagination.

While Frisk was putting on the blue treasure she was granted to borrow by Sans, she figured that she might as well indirectly begin her investigation of Sans’ face turning blue, whether he knew it or not. Plus, she _had_ wondered a couple times what the answer would be to the question she was about to pose.

“So… how does temperature affect you? Or skeletons, that is? ‘Cause you didn’t seem at all bothered by that snowstorm on our way here.” _It doesn’t look like temperature is the cause of his blue cheeks, but best to confirm._

“Well, skeletons aren’t actually affected by external temperatures. Like the cold, or heat, or snow, or wind. Like, I can feel them, and tell that they’re there, but they’ll never bother me. Make sense? It’s kinda hard to explain.”

“Right…” _So it isn’t the weather…_ Frisk mentally eliminated that possibility while doing the hoodie’s zipper up. “What about _in_ ternal temperatures?”

“Yeah, I'd be affected by those. Like when you have a fever; you feel hot and cold, on and off, even though your surroundings’ temperature could be totally normal and comfortable to anyone that wasn’t sick. It’s because your _body_ is kinda messed up when you’re sick like that. That’s an internal cause because the feeling of those temperatures came from _inside_ you, not the atmosphere or weather. Being drunk would also be an internal effect. Although alcohol actually cools the core of your body down, it warms up the outer edges of your body, which in your case would be your skin. Instead of heat being equally distributed throughout your body like usual, all the heat goes to the surface, leaving the very inside cold. This creates something like an illusion that makes you think alcohol raises your body temperature, but it actually does the opposite. It’s just because it heats up the outside of you, the part that you feel. Also, you’d be drunk, so your mind could be easily deceived in that state.”

Frisk had long since finished preparing herself for the walk home. Sans’ hoodie was zipped up, its hood over her head, her hands in the pockets, but she didn’t mind that Sans’ explanation was a long and scientific one; she actually found it quite interesting. And she had no idea Sans could sound like such a teacher or scientific expert. It was kind of endearing, actually.

“Um… heheh. Does that answer your question?” Sans scratched the back of his skull self-consciously.

Frisk laughed. “Above and beyond, my friend. Don’t worry, though- it was actually pretty cool to learn that stuff!” _Sans obviously isn’t sick, and his cheeks were definitely turning blue_ before _he started drinking tonight. Plus, two shots isn’t nearly enough to get him drunk. Seems temperature has nothing to do with this mystery._ Frisk sighed internally.

“Oh. Heheh… Cool.” Sans grinned. And with that, they stepped outside.

“Oh gosh… Sans, look!” Frisk gasped and tugged excitedly on Sans’ t-shirt’s sleeve, temporarily forgetting about her investigation.

“Oh yeah, the blizzard’s over.” He commented nonchalantly.

“And it’s so pretty!” Frisk suddenly abandoned Sans’ side to frolic in the once again gentle and pleasing surroundings of Snowdin. She didn’t often unnecessarily and carelessly run around and twirl and giggle like she was eight years old again- or she liked to think she didn’t anyway, but when the current setting was absolutely _lovely,_ she just couldn’t help it.

Indeed, the blizzard was over, but the snowing wasn’t quite. With the wind being gone, flurries slowly and softly floated down from the cavern’s “sky”, adding more to the fluffy white layer on the ground that already reached past halfway to her knees. The streetlights had automatically turned off at some point during hers and Sans’ dinner, darkening the town to recreate the idea of nighttime. Grillby’s was the only place in town that seemed to be open at this hour, so the light from his restaurant cast a faint yellow glow onto the snowflakes, contrasting with the overall darkness to create the gorgeous scene that Frisk was enjoying so much.

Frisk was now stood in the middle of the path running through Snowdin Town, smiling as she gazed up above. She was vaguely aware of Sans grinning and slowly walking in her direction, but she only continued looking up at the darkness dotted with little clumps of falling snow. She stuck her tongue out to catch snowflakes that were also happening to land on her eyelashes, dotting the top of her vision with white and making her blink rapidly, when she came up with an idea.

“Sans!” She brought her eyes back down to a horizontal level and turned around to face him. Being stood between her and Grillby’s restaurant, the warm yellow light cast a sort of eerie and magical look onto him from behind. It could have been described as slightly creepy- the way shadows engulfed the outer edges of his figure, but it was also quite intriguing looking. It was mysterious and ominous, and although Frisk expected Sans to have his regular uninterested but patient look on his face with a hint of boredom, she instead saw a subtle aspect of attentive interest and… awe? Curiosity? Wonder? Enjoyment? It was a rather soft and vulnerable look for the typically sarcastic and light-hearted skeleton that always had an underlying sense of guardedness, and Frisk felt kind of lucky to be able to see Sans in an unusual state such as this. After all, she couldn’t think of another time off the top of her head that she saw him wearing an expression like that.

“Let’s make snow angels!” She called to him in delight.

“What’s a snow angel?” He asked.

 _Oh yeah, not everything’s the same down here as up there._ Frisk laughed, and beckoned Sans closer. “Repeat after me.” Then, she let herself fall backwards, seeing as the snow was deep enough to break her fall. She then started moving her arms up and down, and her legs from side to side.

“I don’t get it.” Sans said.

“Wait and see, silly.”

After a few more moving of her limbs in the snow, Frisk carefully stood up as to not mess up her angel, and said, “Ta da!”

Sans made his way over to stand at her side to see from a better angle, and Frisk could feel her cheeks warm a bit at his closeness to her. _Don’t be like that, Frisk. He’s just standing next to you. No meaning to that. Get over yourself already._

“Oh, ‘cause it looks like an angel in the snow?”

“Yeah!” She said a little too excitedly, trying to quiet her despondent thoughts.

“Heh. Kinda cool.”

“Now it’s your turn!”

“Huh?”

“You make one too! I’ll make another next to you.”

“Kid-“

“Come on Saaaans.” She looked up at him from her spot on the ground where she had lain down in preparation for another snow angel.

“Whatever you say, kiddo.” He sighed, then finally lay down next to her and started moving his arms and legs like she had.

“You humans find joy in strange things.” He said. But she could tell that he was still grinning, and she laughed.

Eventually, the two of them stopped moving their arms and legs and fell into a comfortable silence. Although it was a bit chilly lying still in the snow, the sensation was refreshing and looking up into the cave’s dark ceiling where snowflakes kept drifting down from put her mind back into a thoughtful place. She thought back to seeing Sans’ unusual expression right before she decided they should both make snow angels, and now that she thought harder, she remembered seeing a similar look on his face a couple weeks ago: She, Sans, and Papyrus were wearing flower crowns Frisk had made while they were all hanging out at the garbage dump, and she remembered lying on the golden flowerbed, arms crossed under her head, eyes closed, reminiscing about when she first fell there. Then she had opened her eyes to see Sans looking down at her with a strange look on his face. But it was the same watchful, curious, thoughtful, and maybe even admiring face that she had seen a few moments ago. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was an interesting look to be on Sans’ face, and something about him looking at her that way made her feel all warm and ditzy.

“Whatcha thinkin' about there, buddy? I can see you smiling a bit.” She heard Sans say from beside her. Indeed, she was faintly smiling, thinking of the way Sans seemed to look at her sometimes, but she couldn’t exactly let him know that. She had a cover-up idea that could potentially be kind of fun.

Frisk let herself continue to smile and she got up from her body’s print on the ground, walked a few feet, then bent down to pick up a small handful of snow. As she straightened up and began to mould the snow into a particular shape, she heard Sans grunt as he stood up behind her from his snow angel as well.

“Whatcha got there?” He asked as he slowly approached from behind.

 _This is shitty packing snow._ Frisk thought, unsatisfied with her attempt at making a snowball. The snow would never remain a ball for more than a few seconds, so she’d have to be quick to act. And Sans was almost on her, about to ruin the element of surprise. She’d have to throw it… _now_.

She swiveled around to face the skeleton and instantly threw the snowball, hitting him right in the chest. Sans casually looked down at the spot she hit him at, a couple spots of leftover snow on his t-shirt, then slowly and deliberately looked back up at her.

“You’re gonna have a bad time, kid.” He tried to look serious and foreboding with his empty sockets and low, gravely voice, but the grin that obviously wanted to grow wider gave him away. He sprung into action so fast that Frisk didn’t have time to dodge the hastily made snowball that hit her left shoulder. She squealed and ran a few meters away, picking up more snow and trying to make another ball as she kept an eye on him. As she looked back at Sans while absentmindedly trying to form another snowball, she saw that his kept falling apart as well. She could hear him cursing at the useless fluffy snow, then he called out to her, “This is shitty snowball snow!”

“I know!” She called back and laughed, then frustratingly swore as her own snowball fell apart for the fourth or fifth time.

“Screw this.” She looked up to see that Sans had abandoned his handful of snow and was now manipulating trails of blue smoke over a patch of snow close by. His left eye was blue from his magic as well, and he wore a focused expression with a wicked smile that made her think she wouldn’t like what he was about to do.

When it appeared that he was finished whatever he was doing, Frisk nervously watched him lean down to pick up another handful of snow from the patch that he had used his magic on. After only a few seconds, he flung it towards her. Again, she didn’t have enough time to react as he threw it with quite a force, and seeing as it didn’t fall apart on its way to its target, _like a_ _proper snowball_ , she probably should have anticipated a harder hit that she did. It hit her on the arm, and she looked up at him, mouth agape. “That’s cheating!” He must have used his magic to turn that area of snow into actual packing snow!

“Can’t have a snowball fight if you can’t exactly make snowballs.” He responded with that stupid evil grin. Great. Now she’d have to somehow get to that good snow he was guarding.

Whatever. She’d just try and dodge his attacks while throwing and kicking bunches of snow at him. _Sounds like a great plan, Frisk…_ Oh well. At least she was determined.

She tried to mirror Sans' devilish smile he was giving her, then broke into a run. She saw him scramble to make another snowball as she focused on sprinting to her destination, and when she was about one or two meters away, she paused to kick a bunch of snow up, hopefully throwing his aim off. It worked; the snowball only grazed her arm, and when she noticed Sans’ growl of frustration, she laughed. Her victory was short-lived however, since her laughter caused her running to slow a bit, greeting her with a snowball to the face.

“Ow!” She threw her hands up to brush the coldness of her face, scowling as it was Sans’ turn to laugh. Finally, she had made it to the magical patch of packing snow, and lucky for her, Sans was too busy laughing to notice her quickly preparing an attack. She felt a rush of satisfaction and relief when she was able to make a perfect sphere of snow in a few seconds, and Sans was still too preoccupied with laughter to dodge or protect himself against her shot- which hit him right in the face too.

“Bull’s eye!” She cried with joy. Sans wasn’t laughing anymore. Both of them were still for a moment before he started striding over to her.

 _Uh oh._ Frisk thought. She started walking, then fast walking, then running again as Sans began to chase her. Her boots crunched the dense snow as she ran over it and proceeded to make another snowball. After glancing for a millisecond back at Sans, she threw the snowball back towards him, which he easily dodged. He was gaining on her.

 _Shit shit shit shit shit._ Frisk tried to run faster, but her laughter was making her do the opposite. And soon after making another snowball, she felt Sans jump on her from behind, forcing her to fall forward to the ground. She threw her arms out to avoid falling on her face, making sure she didn’t crush her newly made snowball, then squirmed around so she was lying on her back. Sans still had the upper hand- being on top of her, but at least if she was facing him she could attempt to hit him one last time-

“Hey!” Sans had readily pinned her arms above her head, ripping her last plan to shreds. She pouted at him. “Saaaans.” She struggled to free her wrists from his skeletal grasp, but to no avail. She still held onto her snowball in one of her immobile hands, her very last hope.

“Told you you’d have a bad time.” Sans grinned down at her.

“Hmph.” She grunted, powerless.

 _Powerless._ The thought had destroyed her chance of winning the snowball fight (however you could win one), but it had awakened something else inside of her. Something that confused and excited her. Something that had to do with Sans being on top of her, and quite closely, as well. Only then, did she notice that his face was only inches away from hers, and just when she was wondering what was going to happen next, Sans’ cheeks turned blue and his expression suddenly changed from smug to awkward realization. He must have noticed the same thing she just did.

Frisk could feel her cheeks warm, but she didn’t let her flushed state throw her off her goal. Since Sans’ guard was down just enough for her to free her hands, she did just that and quickly rolled the both of them over so that she was on top instead. Frisk straddled his lap, then took her last snowball and smeared it all over his face, laughing hysterically as he sputtered and tried to pry her hands away. After a combination of him succeeding and her stopping because there was no more snowball, Sans brushed the majority of the snow off his face and glowered at her.

“What a _turn_ of events, huh?” She smirked at him. It felt great to make a pun out of her victory, but when Sans’ response was only a confused look, she sighed.

“You know, because I _turned_ us over?”

“Oh. _Oh man_ … kid, why?” Sans groaned and she laughed again. She thought that was a pretty good one!

When she finished her laughing fit, she looked back at Sans to find him regarding her with that strange look again. But something was different this time… like he wanted something. Frisk waited, but he didn’t do anything; just kept watching her.

Then she felt it again: that urge to kiss him.

The snow falling around them, the far off golden light from Grillby’s, the fact that she was sitting on Sans’ lap, who made no move to get up anytime soon, and the way he was looking at her… she felt the need to do _something_ in this situation.

Without further consideration, Frisk leaned down and gave the skeleton a soft kiss on his left cheek. She had closed her eyes- for what reason, she wasn’t sure; it just felt right, and she had felt Sans tense beneath her when her lips met his skull. When she sat back up, the blueness was back, but in a darker shade than she’d ever seen, and Sans wore a slightly nervous and very confused expression. But he wasn’t pitiful, or scared, or disgusted, or angry… Her hopes rose inside of her, but she wouldn’t let herself get too excited yet with no proof of anything.

“What-“ Sans cleared his throat. “…What was that for?” He asked her, his cheeks still tinged with blue.

Frisk shrugged nonchalantly and attempted her best cool and confident voice to say, “’Cause you looked cute and- and I felt like it.” _Damnit. Stammered a bit there._ Sans only viewed her with a thoughtful and inquisitive look that still held a hint of confusion and… hope? That’s all Frisk could think of that other underlying emotion as.

Suddenly feeling the cold from the wintery weather, a shiver ran through her body and she got off Sans. She saw him sit up and watch her out of the corner of her eye as she brushed snow off her knees, frowning at how her brown pants were soaked through in that area. She was grateful for the distraction of brushing herself off so she wouldn’t have to look at Sans and blush again. When she was done, she stuffed her wet, numb hands into the pockets of his hoodie and finally turned to him to say, “The cold finally got to me, I can’t wait to get home and take a nice hot bath!” She smiled and set her pace back to their house.

After a few steps, she subtly slowed her walk down to walk beside the skeleton she had kissed on the cheek a few minutes ago. They walked silently. Not in either a comfortable or uncomfortable way, just, uncertain. Unasked questions hung in the air between them, with an occasional ever-so-slight head turn in the other’s direction, that would occasionally get caught and force the head-turner to rapidly face forward again.

At least the silence gave Frisk more time to contemplate Sans’ face turning blue. Not that she ended up contemplating for a very long time.

_The darkest blue I’ve ever seen his cheeks turn was when I kissed him. And they remained blue for a significant amount of time after that… And they were blue before then. Yeah, just when I realized how close we were when he was hovering over me in the snow, it was like his thoughts mirrored mine, because he suddenly got this startled and awkward look on his face. And his cheeks had turned blue._

_I had brushed it off as him being cold after he gave me his hoodie, but now that I know that skeletons aren’t affected by the weather, it can't have been that. His cheeks were also a bit blue when he offered me his hoodie the second time when we were about to leave Grillby’s, and when our hands brushed during the exchange. I know for sure because I watched him that time._

_There were definitely a number of times during our dinner as well that his face got blue. I can’t exactly pinpoint all of them, but I clearly remember one where he had quickly turned his face away from me as well as colouring when I looked over at him. It isn't very Sans-like: acting fast and self-consciously, and neither are those strange looks he keeps giving me from time to time. It's possible that I was just amusing him, my activeness and playfulness dumbfounding his lazybones into silent curiosity. But I was sure I'd seen something like awe, or maybe even admiration in his face. It was more than just attentive watchfulness; he looked transfixed by something._

_Transfixed by me?_

When Frisk discovered that _she_ was the one thing in common between Sans’ cheeks turning blue, it all started to make sense. Wasn’t giving someone your coat (or in this case, sweater) to keep them warm considered a romantic gesture? Accidental closeness or touching: when she went to return or borrow Sans’ hoodie, she had looked down in embarrassment the first time, but the second time… he was looking down with that blue tint. When they fell together in the snow, they were so close they could have easily kissed. _Actually_ kissed. And he seemed legitimately _flustered_ when she kissed his cheek.

_Haha. Never thought I’d be calling Sans flustered._

Her second realization: almost every time Sans’ cheeks turned blue, hers were red. The hoodie, the brush of hands, the fall in the snow, the kiss, _explaining_ the kiss…

_Blushing._

_How could I be so stupid?_

She couldn’t jump to conclusions though, she had to make sure of her guess. She had to do something more. And she had a feeling she’d need a well thought-out plan for that.

This was going to be a long bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The way Sans talks about alcohol affecting body temperature is a legit thing I researched:) Knowledge!  
> Feedback appreciated! Seriously, I love comments. Giving and receiving.  
> Like sex.  
> SorRY okay yeah gimme feedback


	4. Operation Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk enacts her plan to get confirmation of Sans' feelings, calling it "Operation Sans", apparently.  
> Last chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The end to this little story:3 I hope everyone's had a good time reading it so far, and thanks for doing so!

Frisk seemed kind of… out of sorts today. She and Sans had gone out to Grillby’s for dinner again after her work like the usual, but the way she was acting wasn’t the usual.

Of course Frisk could be thoughtful and sometimes prone to daydreaming, but not usually enough so that she wouldn’t hear what he said to her or wasn’t very aware of her surroundings. When she came home to pick him up before dinner, she had tripped while walking down their porch steps, staring into space ahead of her. Sans had put his hands on her arm and back to steady her at the last moment, made sure she was alright, and then they had been on their way after he perhaps took a lingering look at her flushed face with his hands still lightly placed on her. And throughout their dinner and the way there and back, he would often have to start a conversation twice or repeat a question he asked her. She was fine and involved once they started talking, but as soon as there was a break or an end to the chain of thoughts, she would go back to hers. And then he would have to capture her attention again. He decided to instead say her name first so he wouldn’t have to repeat a whole question or sentence, but even then he would have to say it twice or louder the second time. He wasn’t really irritated- he was a patient and laid-back guy, but he also liked not having to do work. So he let her daydream or think or wonder or whatever it was she was so preoccupied with, not making too much conversation while they ate. She even ate slower, more proof that she wasn’t her usual self today.

He asked her at some point what she was even thinking so deeply about, but all he got in response was: “Just… things. I dunno.” It wasn’t a very satisfying answer obviously, but he understood how it felt to be thinking of too many things or the types of things you couldn’t really explain to someone right off the top of your head. He shrugged and let her fall back into her mind hole.

As well as staring into space, taking a while to answer Sans, and the occasional clumsiness (she somehow managed to get her foot stuck on one of the barstool’s legs as they were preparing to leave, causing herself to almost trip again), he noticed that she would sometimes smile randomly during her lost-in-thought phases. When he saw her doing so, he would ask what’s funny, and she’d just shake her head, still smiling, and say it was nothing. Once or twice, he actually heard her laugh under her breath as well. She’d look at Sans expectantly with her hand over her mouth when she realized he knew, but, not anticipating a useful answer if he asked, Sans would only raise the space above one of his eye sockets in an amused way and go back to whatever he was doing. However, for the same amount of time she spent oddly smiling, there would be instances that she would wear a worried or concerned expression too; her thoughtful face would be more upset than contemplative and a crease would appear between her eyebrows. The look only lasted a minute or two at a time though, so Sans didn’t worry too much about it. He only grew more curious: what the _hell_ could she be thinking about?

There was something else he was worrying about to some extent though.

The day before, he had lost a bit of his control over his flustered-ness. Not drastically, but all it would take is a couple stammers accompanying his blush (which has happened now) to set her on the right track. Now that he had actually _acted_ flustered, it would be easier for her to put the pieces together. Would she? _Oh stars, would she?_ Frisk was youthful, but not dense. She would find out eventually, and probably sooner rather than later, since she was on a mission to find out why his cheeks turn blue anyway. He didn’t want to be so frightened about Frisk potentially discovering how he felt about her, but it was automatic- there was the obvious worry over whether or not she would feel the same. He knew he couldn’t pretend forever, but he wanted to wait to perhaps pursue her when she was a bit older- maybe then he’d have a better chance when she wasn’t as childlike and innocent. Although, there was always the chance that he was underestimating her- after all, he couldn’t read her mind and she did tend to blush at the same times he did…

But still, he really hoped nothing bad would come of this.

 

~

 

It was like studying for a test: reviewing everything in your head in preparation for the real thing. Pulling the thoughts apart and putting them back together again, repeating this process over and over until you were sure it would stick and you couldn’t get it wrong.

It wouldn’t just be a _look_ ; how open would her eyes be? Half-lidded in consideration? Round and open with fascination and eagerness? Where would they be focused? Right back at him? Momentarily captivated by his mouth? Up through her eyelashes? What shape would her mouth take? Slightly open in lust? Biting her lip shyly or in contemplation? Smirking enticingly? Or smiling innocently? A laugh with her tongue cheekily between her teeth?

She wouldn’t just be _talking;_ her voice would be attentive and intrigued, as if her focus was only on one thing (which it would be). It would lilt and sound cheerful. She would appear interested, and sound inviting, but always hold a bit back.

She wouldn’t just _sit_ or _stand;_ her stance would be friendly and alluring. Casual, calm, non-critical, turned towards him. She would get (and remain) close, but not too close, give a few light but intentional touches, maybe twirl her hair ‘absentmindedly’ a bit, and repeat some of his movements (like leaning backwards or forwards or reaching for a drink).

If you hadn’t guessed already, Frisk’s ‘test’ was to flirt with Sans. “Operation Sans”: she called it.

The night before, she had brought her phone into the bathroom with her in case she would need to do some research during her bath for her big plan, which she did. She needed to know if Sans was really interested, and the easiest way to find that out was to flirt, it seemed, according to practically everyone. She had visited more than half a dozen websites on _how_ to actually do it (flirt), but she was still nervous about doing it later. She only really learned what flirting was _last night_ , so she had spent almost half the day internally memorizing and perfecting everything she was going to do. She wasn’t able to think about it very much during her work though- in the first hour, she forgot about a third of the chores her manager had asked her to do, she went to the wrong storage closet to get supplies for one of them that she didn’t often do, she almost mixed up a couple of room service snack orders, she got one of her a co-workers a small sized coffee (like they usually wanted) when they asked for a large instead; she _was_ listening when they told her that they wanted more because they had a late night last night, she had just put her brain on auto-pilot once she got to the coffee machine, as she had done several times that hour.

Her manager was sweet and not particularly easy to anger, so when she noticed Frisk walking back and forth from places and asking for reminders or confirmation of what she was supposed to be doing, the inn-running and mother rabbit stated more out of concern than irritation that Frisk seemed distracted. Frisk had apologized and reassured her manager that she was okay, just thinking a bit too much, and tried not to think about Sans anymore until her shift was over. It was difficult and tempting since Operation Sans was going to be enacted _today_ , but she generally managed.

So, the only time of day Frisk had to mentally review Operation Sans, was during their dinner. It sucked a bit- she didn’t want to miss out on their usual everyday banter, but it was, well, everyday. Flirting wasn’t. She was thankful that Sans had noticed her distractedness and let her keep to herself a bit more that evening, and she was glad that he didn’t seem to mind at all. That was something one wouldn’t know about Sans at first glance: he was good at reading people and what they would be appreciative of at that moment. He wasn’t the most active person of course, but he was always observing, and almost always considerate of what he noticed.

She knew he was inquisitive to know what was even preoccupying her mind so much, but he only shrugged forbearingly at her lame excuses with his signature look of amusement. He wasn’t the type to pester, even when she would unexpectedly smile, laugh, or frown with no outwardly apparent reason. Maybe she would someday tell him why she kept doing that throughout their dinner- if Operation Sans was a success- but for now, she was content with him being too indifferent to pursue it.

It was when her imagination accompanied her ‘studying’, that she couldn’t help occasionally showing an external reaction. When she thought about ways he could respond to the Operation- like flirting back, she would smile a bit. If she would envision him starting to act all awkward and flustered and cute, she might snicker under her breath. But what made a slight frown infrequently come upon her face and reside there for a couple minutes at a time, was when she thought about the possibility of rejection. It was unlikely that he would become disgusted or angry; not many things could get him into that state and they had a chill and forgiving friendship- but what if he just platonically called her adorable and brushed it all off? Or laughed at her? At worst, he could become awkward in a _bad_ way and they wouldn’t talk normally for a while, and that would be so unnatural and embarrassing and conceivably agonizing to Frisk. She _could_ always attempt to make a joke out of it or say that she was using him for practice on someone else, but, as much as it freaked her out, she wanted to come clean about how she’d felt for a while now.

That unavoidable and decisive thought was what kept her determined enough to keep reviewing her looks and attitude and stances and overall technique: she couldn’t wait any longer to get this off her chest. _And,_ her assumption of his cheeks turning blue meaning that he was blushing, was what gave her reasonable hope that he could feel similarly in the first place.

But still, she really hoped nothing bad would come of this.

 

~

 

Something even stranger than Frisk being slightly unresponsive from her absentmindedness, was when that all seemed to completely disappear once she and Sans got home. As soon as they walked through the door, she asked him if he wanted to watch the movie Ponyo with her, then almost never ceased to make conversation from then on. It was one of those Ghibli movies Alphys had lent when Frisk was younger, except she had loved it so much that she “forgot” to return it. Alphys seemed to have forgotten as well, so it worked out. But over the years, the sort of-anime film had lost her interest; although Frisk acted a bit playful and childish as part of her personality, Ponyo wasn’t mature enough to keep her sat down and focused, it became more of a casual background noise. Always sweet and adorable, but not quit engaging enough. Sans wondered, why did she ask him to watch _that_ movie then? Maybe she wanted to catch up on the everyday banter they missed over dinner… that would be nice. He hadn’t hesitated to agree- he almost never turned down an opportunity to hang out with her (that fact became more of a reflex than a choice when he started developing feelings for her a year or so ago). Besides, it wasn’t like he had any other plans for the night.

“So how was your day, Sans?” Frisk chirped, flopping down next to him after putting the movie in the disc player.

“Uh… was fine, I guess. You?” Sans replied, slightly startled by her sudden wholehearted and focused speaking.

“It was pretty quiet, being lost-in-thought all day.” She adjusted herself so that she sat cross-legged on the green couch and pressed the play button on the remote when the movie’s menu popped up.

“ _All day_? What could possibly manage to capture Frisk’s attention that much for that long?” Sans said in a joking tone, but genuinely confused and taken aback that Frisk was even unfocused long before their dinner.

“You’ll see.” Frisk responded secretively, then glanced over at him and winked with a smirk.

 _What even…?_ Sans thought incredulously. He, himself, winked on a regular basis casually and just because it was fun, but when Frisk did- and that was rarely, it was to be ironic. But the way she did it now… she was actually being _cheeky._ Weird. But admittedly, enticing.

“Did you just _wink_?” He asked, trying to look amused and appalled rather than mildly attracted.

“What did it look like?” Frisk replied teasingly again.

Sans for sure wasn’t complaining about her behaviour (it was pretty cute), but it was so out of the blue that he just couldn’t ignore it. “Why are you acting so playful right now? But not childish-playful, more like-“

“So many _questions_. What could possibly manage to provoke Sans into using his energy to speak this much?” Frisk faked shock as she based her dialogue off of Sans’ from earlier.

“’Cause first off buddy, it’s unlike you, and second, just minutes ago you were so silent with distractedness that I had to _use my_ _energy_ to catch your attention. I just wanna know-“

“Aw… look at all the little Ponyos!” Her interruption from unexpectedly being more interested in the human-fish things on the screen at the moment, honestly sounded a bit forced.

“Frisk-“

“Pshdsjldbhpst shush!” Her index finger all of a sudden came to rest against his mouth while she continued staring at the TV, trying to hide a smile. And although the contact of his mouth with her soft, warm finger made him blush a little, he still pursued.

“No one’s even talking!” He gestured to the movie, where Ponyo the human-fish thing was still being shown just swimming around and breathing bubbles and shit.

“Yeah, except you.” Frisk laughed as she turned to face him and poked her finger between his eye sockets before returning it to her lap. “You know, usually it’s Papyrus that has a hard time being quiet.” She pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Hmph.” Sans crossed his arms and slouched back into the saggy couch, defeated. Whatever. Frisk said he’d find out what was going on with her later, so he might as well enjoy it and make the normal conversation he missed at dinner, during the calm and familiar animation.

“So have ya learned your lesson about Snowdin weather?” Sans asked and waited for her answer to expand on what he meant.

“Huh?” Frisk looked over, confused but still with that unexpected, more-adorable-than-usual vibe.

“You should start bringing a coat or somethin’ to work, in case there’s another weird snowstorm someday.” Sans suggested. It was probably a miracle that Frisk didn’t get sick from yesterday- all that walking in the blizzard as well as their snowball fight… thing.

Yeah, _snowball fight thing._ Snowball fight that ended with Frisk leaning down from her seat on Sans’ lap to kiss his cheek, turning Sans into a furiously blushing and flustered mess. He hadn’t been able to get the memory out of his head for just five minutes since it happened, and it even kept him up last night later than usual. He was torn today between wanting to talk even more to Frisk over their dinner to see if anything changed between them, and letting himself ponder his thoughts silently. Frisk sort of ended up making the decision for him though, being as she was far too distracted in her own head to upkeep a conversation for long, so he did pretty much the same thing.

The scene of Frisk straddling him in the snow, then _kissing_ him, then blushing as she stammered out her reasoning to be that he _looked cute_ and she _felt like it,_ uncontrollably replayed itself over and over again, occasionally even managing to make Sans blush, just by reminiscing. Sans hadn’t done anything- and she had just leaned down and pecked him. It wasn’t on the mouth, but in some way, she had _wanted_ to _kiss him._ And she _did._ Was there a chance she was attracted to him? Was there a chance she felt like he did? Did he have more of a chance with her than he thought?

“Meh, there aren’t _that_ many blizzards. And if there was one, I could just use your hoodie.” Frisk said casually, but with the hint of a smile Sans caught while watching her profile as she gazed forward at the movie Sans was barely paying attention to. He was suddenly a bit flattered; she _wanted_ to wear his hoodie more? Then, momentarily losing her smooth composure and tone, she turned and added hastily, “That is, if you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

Why the hell _would_ he mind? If anything, he’d love to lend his sweater to her on a regular basis. And didn’t she know skeletons aren’t bothered by the cold? Oh Frisk, the ever-so-kind Human.

Sans adjusted himself on the couch so that he wasn’t slouched so low- his neck wasn’t all that comfortable, then responded: “You like my hoodie, huh?” He didn’t mean it to sound as smug as it did, but the way Frisk regarded him with ogling eyes and pink cheeks with her mouth slightly open… it was definitely a pleasant surprise.

“I- well, I-“

“Nah, of course I don’t mind, kid.” Sans waved his skeleton hand dismissively and grinned warmly at her, expecting the smile to be returned.

But it wasn’t. Instead, Frisk was making a displeased face at him. Not irritated or mad, just… displeased.

“What?” He asked warily. Did he do something wrong?

She sighed. “Just… must you keep calling me ‘kid’, Sans? I’m seventeen, man.”

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his skull as he thought, _not gonna be so easy breaking out of that habit._ “Whattabout ‘kiddo’?”

With an accusatory cry of his name, Frisk reached over and hit Sans’ arm, Sans laughing at his own joke and the outburst of its reaction. When he didn’t stop his snickering, Frisk continued hitting him playfully, alternating hands, and eventually uncrossed her legs and lunged to tackle him. Sans was on his back on the green cushions, with Frisk’s legs on either side of him, pinning him to that position as she kept smacking him lightly on his chest and arms.

 _This is like yesterday in the snow._ Sans realized.

Maybe Frisk had realized too, or she was just having fun messing him up, since he could see her grinning to herself now too. But after a minute or so of her onslaught, Sans was growing a bit tired from all the laughing and useless attempts to bat her hands away.

“Stars, Frisk. Let up already!” He cried through his laughter.

Suddenly, the hitting stopped. Sans opened his eye sockets that he didn’t realize he had been squeezing shut, and almost started when he noticed that Frisk had leaned down closer to his face, only a few inches away. He could feel her breath as she spoke, almost in a whisper.

“ _Make me_.”

Sans could feel his cheeks warm at the tone of voice she used with those choice words, even though they weren’t blatantly erotic or anything. And then he saw her smirk down at him.

Wait.

What was she smirking at? Sure, the last thing she said made him feel slightly aroused, but only slightly, he was sure. He practically wasn’t hard at all, and even if he was, she probably wasn’t even pressed down on him enough to possibly feel it.

All he had really done was blush, and then she-

_Oh._

**All he had really done was blush. And then she smirked.**

_Oh shit._

_Does she know?_

 

~

 

 _Well that line seemed to have an effect._ Frisk thought satisfyingly as she smirked down at the blushing Sans. While doing her research on flirting, she had come across a page with examples of things to say that, despite being totally innocent, somehow created sexual tension almost all of the time. Frisk didn’t really understand how that could be, but when she watched the attached video from some movie or TV show of two Humans having a conversation about something she didn’t understand (since she hadn’t seen the rest of the film or show), the blonde guy saying the line when the dark haired guy told him to shut up about something, suddenly made Frisk understand the effect the line “make me” could have. The way the guy said it, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to the, in turn, hesitant black haired guy that couldn’t seem to help but glance down at the other guy’s lips, definitely gave Frisk the idea that they were both thinking of, or about to, kiss. But before that could actually happen, the scene ended, and then the clip did, making Frisk sigh frustratingly. She was so frustrated actually, that she abandoned her research for a bit to instead try to find more videos of the two guys, but one where they _actually kissed_. She knew it was a bit silly to instantly assume they _must have_ at some point, but she had such a strong feeling that that was the case.

After using the title of the video (“Dean and Cas ‘Make me’ scene”) to search for others, she only became even _more_ frustrated when she found an abundance of similar videos where the guys would stare intensely and glance down at each other’s lips, but _never kiss._ Also, a weird thing she noticed while watching so many different clips from the (seemed to be) show, Cas (as Dean called him) always wore the same thing: a suit and beige trenchcoat. Maybe it would make sense if she actually watched the program. She _did_ find edited videos of the two characters kissing or doing… _other things_ , but they were obviously fan-made and fake- it seemed she wasn’t the only one that really wanted the two guys to just get on with it. Frisk was thinking the whole time what Mettaton occasionally said on his programs: “Oh my god, would you two just _smooch already_?”

She wondered if someone would be thinking the same thing about her and Sans right now, if they were on a TV show.

Because after a moment of blushing and stammering slightly with larger-than-usual white pinpricks, Sans’ expression became more controlled as he slowly lifted his head off the sofa, up towards Frisk. Suddenly, Frisk’s smooth and smug demeanor faded away, leaving her frozen in place by anticipatory surprise. Was this it?

Apparently not. Or not _yet_ anyway, because Sans then smirked mischievously- no more than two inches from Frisk’s mouth- right before his unmistakable smoky blue magic enveloped and lifted her about a foot above his body.

“Oh, what the-!” She said at the unexpected but recognizable feeling of nothing touching her body, without actually falling. He had taken her by surprise twice in the past like, five seconds, and although she was kind of disappointed that he didn’t end up connecting their mouths, her original plan _was_ to kiss him _herself._ Not that she would mind if he beat her to it, but she was definitely having fun being the surprising one- seeing and hearing his confused or flustered responses was more enjoyable than she thought it would be. She was looking forward to finding out what he would do if she kissed him on the mouth.

Wait, when did she become so confident that he would react positively?

From beneath her floating form, Sans chuckled at her squinty-eyed pout before using a twitch of his index finger to move his Frisk-containing cloud of magic to the other end of the couch. But he didn’t place her back in her seat like she thought he would, instead, he sat her on the very edge of the armrest, then shortly after released his hold on her.

Having nothing to balance Frisk on the armrest anymore (and she was never thoroughly prepared for when Sans let go of his power playfully being used on her), she squealed as she fell the short distance to the floor.

“Heheh, get dunked on!” She heard Sans call victoriously before dissolving into laughter. She repositioned her limbs a bit so that she lay on her back on the soft, carpeted floor with her legs leaning against the side of the couch, bent over the armrest at the knees. She was smiling slightly at the recent chain of events, but, having not said anything since so gracefully tumbling off the sofa, Sans asked her when his laughter had died down a considerable amount, “You alright there, kiddo?”

“Goddamnit, Sans!” She cried from the floor. He was calling her that _on purpose._

She heard him laugh again. “You really don’t like me calling you that, huh?”

“Yeah! It makes me feel like a little kid, which I’m not! And it’d be weird ‘cause you’re not and-“ Whoops. So much for holding back.

A beat of silence. _Shit._ Frisk thought worriedly. She couldn’t be awkward though, so she decided to say something casual before the silence stretched too long.

“How old _are_ you, anyway?” She asked.

His reply was almost instant: “Nineteen or something.”

She snickered, but also felt sort of relieved at the confirma- well, _almost_ confirmation. He wasn’t that much older than her!

“ _’Or something_ ’?” She forced her voice to sound more joking than excited at his answer. She never thought about his age much until she started taking a more-than-platonic interest in him, but once she did, she estimated that he was around two to four years older than her, but it was hard to tell since his attitude didn’t change much over the years. And she was never able to think of a suitable explanation to ask him directly. Her feelings and this situation seemed to finally get the better of her though, and she found that she didn’t really care that much. Operation Sans _was_ going pretty good so far, and all this flirting stuff was somehow making her feel more confident.

“Yeah, I dunno. Guess I got too lazy to keep count.” Frisk giggled; _that’s Sans._ She thought.

“Eighteen at least,” He continued. “Twenty at the most.”

“Right...”

“I think.” He added, and they both laughed, Frisk on the floor, Sans on the couch. She could imagine him lying back in the same position that she last saw him in, comfortably enjoying not having to deal with her lighthearted slapping. She could imagine- no, _remember_ being so close to him, easily able to kiss him. And he had leaned up, candidly gazing into her eyes, _tricking_ her into thinking that he would! Was that intentional? If so, he was more of a tease than she anticipated.

And if so, did that mean he suspected what her reaction would be? Did he know how she felt about him? If so, he hadn’t mentioned it out loud- letting her know whether he felt the same or not, but he had kept her unsure about it. Was he playing the game too?

 _“Make it evident that you’re interested, but always hold a bit back. The lack of surety on their side and your subtle behaviour of playing ‘hard to get’ will make their desire to pursue you stronger.”_ Frisk recalled one of those flirting advice websites saying. It seemed that Sans had made it evident that he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea of being in Frisk’s personal space, but he hadn’t gone through with it- kissing her, that is. Sans didn’t strike her as the type of guy that would search up flirting techniques, so maybe he was just a natural, because he was definitely motivating her even more to pursue him.

And that’s what made Frisk determinedly get up from her surprisingly comfortable position on the floor: if they were _both_ going to play this teasing, interested but in-control game called flirting, so be it.

 _So be it._ Frisk laughed internally at herself. She wasn’t exactly _reluctant_ , the idea actually thrilled her.

“Heya Sans?” Frisk reverted back to her soft and cheery- _flirty_ tone as she changed positions: crouched on her toes, arms crossed over the couch’s armrest with her chin resting on top of her hands.

“Yeah buddy?” Sans said from his laid-back spot on the cushions, arms crossed behind his head.

“Want a snack?” She asked him. “I could really go for some sodium chloride right now.”

“I think there’s some chips in the fridge.” He replied, surprising and also pleasing Frisk that he knew what she meant by that science-y name for salt she learned from Alphys.

“Cool. And Sans?” Frisk stood up and leaned forward over the armrest, fully aware (but pretending not to be) of the fact that the collar of her shirt was gaping wide open, likely giving Sans a bit of a nice view. She noticed the white dots of his eyes slowly lower to where she intended, before hastily flicking back up to her face, and she couldn’t keep the smirk off her face as they continued to waver up and down- as if he was trying not to look back at her cleavage.

“You know what’s a great part of you?” And now she was smirking partly because of her upcoming play on words, as well as the light dusting of bright blue that appeared on his cheeks at the sort-of-compliment and presumably, her alluring pose.

“Uh-“ He cleared his throat. He didn’t look as relaxed as he was a moment before, Frisk noted. “What’s that?” He finished.

“You’re just… you’re so laid-back, man.” She said. Again, Sans didn’t instantly understand her pun- only raised a confused and wondering bony brow- so she gestured to his body that was, literally, laid back on the sofa.

Realization and a smile dawned on his face. “Stars… really, Frisk?” He said right before she finally allowed herself to dissolve into giggles.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go get the chips now.” She was still smiling as she fully stood up and turned in the direction of the kitchen, but then jumped in shock as Sans was suddenly stood in front of her, and quite closely as well.

“Whoops. Too close.” He said nonchalantly while Frisk squeaked and flew her hand up to her racing heart.

“Gosh, Sans! You know your so called short-cuts can startle people, right?” She sighed, dropped her hand back to her side, and tried to calm down after the little scare. Although, it was a bit difficult to do that when Sans made no move to back up or stop watching her face like that, and she could feel her cheeks heat up slightly before he smiled again and said, “I’ll get them. You sit and watch the movie.”

He then guided her over to her original seat, his skeletal hands lightly placed on her lower back and upper arm the whole time. His hands may as well have been _burning,_ as Frisk was so aware of where they touched her body.

Then she was sitting down on the saggy old couch, staring ahead at the television playing Ponyo, unable to really pay attention to it. While Sans was off grabbing their snack, Frisk pondered what he had said when he teleported right in front of her: “ _Whoops. Too close.”_? Sans had _never_ miscalculated a ‘short-cut’ before- unless he was drunk- so how come it just happened now?

Did he _mean_ to be close to her?

That seemed like the only logical explanation, and the possibility of it made Frisk smile to herself.

“Is Ponyo half-chicken yet?” Sans asked as he walked back from the kitchen, carrying a family-size bag of potato chips. Frisk always found the idea of a chip bag being called ‘family-size’ dumb; a family could have any number of people in it! And if the chip-making company thought that the typically sized family of four would share a bag of chips _that_ big that’s only half-full anyway, they were wrong. Frisk hadn’t asked every family of four in the world of course, but she still knew those companies were definitely wrong.

“No, why?” Frisk replied. Indeed, the movie wasn’t that far in yet, but they had definitely missed out on a good chunk of it while messing around. “That’s not the only part you care about, is it?” She teased Sans as he sat down next to her and tore open the stupidly called ‘family-size’ chip bag before sitting it on the sofa between them.

“Nah of course not. I just thought that’s what you were smiling at.” He responded before putting a chip into his mouth. _Oh, of course he would notice me smiling dreamily about him. Of course._ Frisk thought exasperatedly as she continued to pay only half-attention to the film in front of them.

“So… why were you smiling?” He asked before crunching on another chip.

 _Shit._ What was she supposed to say? Well, she could be a bit honest, while also avoiding the question…

“You never miscalculate short-cuts. Unless you’re drunk, of course.” What would his response to her directness be? Frisk wondered, excited as she reached into the bag for a handful of chips and began eating a couple.

“Hm?” He asked while chewing.

“When you teleported in front of me, you said ‘whoops. Too close.’ But you’re usually so precise with where you end up. So what was up with that?” She expanded, tossing more chips into her mouth.

When the next few seconds were silent, Frisk looked over at the quiet Sans, and smirked when she saw the hint of a blue blush on his face. Was her guess from earlier correct?

“Look, a wish chip!” Sans changed the subject by picking a folded chip out of his handful and holding it up for Frisk to see.

“Oh cool.” Frisk looked down at her small handful left and noticed that she, too, had a wish chip. “Me too!” She exclaimed before stretching her arm over her head to feed herself the so-called ‘wish chip’, as she was taught to do as a child.

“What are you doing?” She heard Sans ask.

“Eating the wish chip like you’re supposed to?” She replied, confused. Did Monsters not have a special way to eat wish chips? She finally got the chip in her mouth and proceeded to eat it while thinking of her wish, then saw Sans’ disbelieving expression when she looked back up.

“How the fuck does doing that have anything to do with wishes?” He said, still holding his own wish chip.

Frisk had never really thought about that, actually. Maybe she could quickly think up some bullshit reasoning behind it? “Uh…” _Uh…_ “Well…” _Shittttt._ “’Cause it uh, takes some effort? So like, with hard work, you can accomplish your wish?”

Sans only stared at her. “You’re bullshitting me, aren’tcha?”

_Goddamnit._

“No…?”

“Buddy, watch this.” Sans said, and then threw his chip into the air, tilted his head back, and effortlessly caught it on his blue tongue before pulling it into his mouth. And the whole time he chewed, he kept this weird but enticing piercing gaze on Frisk, making her want to both return it and look away. She ended up returning it.

“Okay,” She swallowed. “So what’s the reasoning behind _that_ tradition?”

“With effort, _and_ skill, _and_ luck, your wish might come true.” Sans stated smugly. _Fucking bonehead._ Frisk thought. She then looked into the chip bag for another folded chip, found one, and threw it into the air with the intention of catching it with her mouth, like Sans had done.

But she never got to make the same wish again, because the chip hit the corner of her mouth, then fell onto her lap. Frisk glared down at it, as if it had seriously offended her.

“Welp. Looks like your wish ain’t comin’ true anytime soon.” Sans stated.

She threw the chip at him.

“Don’t throw your failed wishes at me!”

“It’s not guaranteed to fail.” Frisk muttered, looking back at the television screen, but Sans had heard her.

“Is that so?” He said jokingly.

“Yeah.” She turned away from Ponyo and smirked at him, allowing herself to quickly glance down at his mouth that contained that deft and soft-looking tongue, letting him have a hint of what her wish was, and that she knew from his behaviour that her chances of it coming true weren’t the lowest.

Maybe he caught it, because the white in his eyes enlarged and took a fleeting look down to, what must have been, her mouth, as well. Frisk’s heart was racing again, and she could practically feel excitement thrumming through her body, like determination did in her times of need.

“What… what was your wish?” Sans voice was quieter than usual as his eyes failed to stay on her eyes. The same was happening to her too, she realized.

She wanted to kiss him so badly; it was all she could think about. Should she? Was this the right time? Nothing was telling her not to…

Did she have reason to believe that Sans would give her a positive reaction?

Yes, she did.

So, no longer thinking of anything other than kissing him, Frisk tore her eyes away from Sans’ face to quickly drop her handful of chips into the bag between them, and then dropped that onto the floor so that she could get closer.

She crawled over to him, knelt on the soft cushions, took one last desire and longing-filled look at his mouth that was open slightly in awe, before grabbing the fabric of his hoodie to pull him forward.

_I’m kissing Sans._

For quite a few seconds, all she did was press against his mouth. But when he didn’t retreat, she began to slowly open and close her lips alternatively over the top and bottom of the space around, and found that he did the same to her.

_Sans is kissing me back._

It worked. Operation Sans _worked._ The thought made Frisk both giddy and desperate to take as much of him as possible, now knowing she could act on her yearlong crush. So, she couldn’t help smiling against their kiss before moving to straddle his lap and press harder, smiling again when he pushed back too and brought his hands up to tug the slightest bit at her hair, which she now understood why people in shows and movies and porn did- it was _far_ from unpleasant, if she was being honest.

Eventually, Frisk had to break away for air, as she was lacking it from all the adrenaline and kissing. They remained no more than a few inches away from each others’ faces though, Frisk still clutching Sans’ hoodie and Sans’ hands still in Frisk’s hair. Dilated pupils and pinpricks, blushing red and blue, breathless and staring into each others’ eyes endlessly.

“My wish was for Operation Sans to be a success.” She said, and smiled again. It seemed to be all she wanted to do now. Well, other than kiss Sans, of course. “Glad it was.” She added.

“’Operation Sans’?” Sans raised the space above one of his eye sockets, amusement lacing his voice.

“Seeing how you reacted to me being, uh... flirty.” Frisk explained.

“Ah.” He nodded, then grinned. “Yeah, I’d say it was a success.” He pulled her back into the kiss, Frisk smiling uncontrollably.

The rest of the night could be summed up with the two of them still barely paying attention to the poor Ponyo movie, and more kisses than handfuls of potato chips.

 

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know Studio Ghibli? Ponyo is actually such an adorable and comforting movie and I highly recommend that everyone watch Ghibli films!  
> And yeah, lmao I made Frisk ship Destiel without her even watching Supernatural. Also this story takes place in the future I guess??? Cuz y'know, there's no "Destiel 'Make me' scene".  
> Yet;)  
> ALSO the flirting advice stuff is sorta bullshit, sorta not heheh. And I kinda made up the reasoning behind each way of how to 'properly' eat 'wish chips' lol.  
> Thank you again for reading! Feel free to give kudos and/or comment- I definitely appreciate advice or editing suggestions too (although I may not have the time to add them all to the work, it would still help me for future writing to know how I could do better). Have a good day/night<3


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